September 30, 2014
by Maryam Hassan
This is part of a recurring series of essays on social anxiety in punk. For more, click here.
There I was, locked in a toilet stall in the restrooms of the Forum in London, shaking uncontrollably. I was trying desperately to muffle my crying because I didn’t want anyone to know that I was having an anxiety attack at a show. Anxiety attacks are shitty at the worst of times but to have one during a show, in a dirty restroom full of loud people was unbearable. There was no one at this show that I could call to help calm me down, I’d already been told on more than one occasion that I had to learn to hold myself together because people were starting to think I was weird. This was the lowest point of my social anxiety, which was triggered by falling into a crowd of people who weren’t really good for me and feeling like I’d isolated myself as it all started to go really wrong.
The lovers kiss onstage.
Audience: Whooo hoo! Applause Oww! Cheering
Spotlight Operator: “Man, this is a horny audience.”
*Submitted by akanymous
we are the last generation whose baby photos weren’t taken on phones
yeah and? 200 years ago they had oil paintings
life goes on